


No One Puts Baby in a Corner

by Daydreaming_Scribe



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dirty Dancing, Fix-It, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Episode: s12e20 Twigs and Twine and Tasha Banes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-07
Updated: 2018-02-07
Packaged: 2019-03-15 05:26:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13606488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daydreaming_Scribe/pseuds/Daydreaming_Scribe
Summary: Max Banes is nothing if not persistent in his goals.Most of which revolve around getting his boyfriend's attention.





	No One Puts Baby in a Corner

**Author's Note:**

  * For [EruthiawenLuin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EruthiawenLuin/gifts), [librarianknight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/librarianknight/gifts).



> Inspired by [this conversation](http://gaywitchtwins.tumblr.com/post/170485864668/fan-male-replied-to-your-post-eruthiawenluin) with a blog I follow on tumblr, gaywitchtwins. Written cause Sam and Max are criminally cute, as well underrated, because in this fandom a gay ship is only popular if it's abusive or the result of fans reading to much into the dynamic between two white straight guys. But that's none of my business.

“Come on, you can do this later.”

“I can’t, Max, it’s really important.”

“Sa-aaam!” Max moans, tossing his arms over his boyfriend’s shoulders. The older hunter just rolls his eyes, a smile playing up on his lips.

“Don’t take this as an insult, but it’s surprising how needy you are.” The witch glares in response, pressing more of his weight onto the other man. Sam’s at one of the Bunker Library’s tables, scanning through at least a dozen books at a time. Meanwhile, Max has spent the past ten minutes or so trying to convince him to take a break, so they can utilize what little time they have to themselves before Dean comes back from grabbing some dinner. Unfortunately, his boyfriend has proven to be annoyingly resilient. The Winchester maintained his focus during Max’s attempts to snatch his attention through conversation. He was unfazed by the sexy impromptu massage, reading throughout the tender back rub and only pausing to give instruction or throaty groans that should be made illegal. Even when Max resorted to neck kissing and some PG-13 whispering (okay, maybe X-rated, if he’s honest), Sam only turned pink and gently chastised him with an “I have to finish this.”.

So now, he’s been forced to take the less subtle route of being a pain in the ass. He’s currently halfway between standing behind and slumping on top of Sam, arms draped over his shoulders and wrapping around his front, their heads resting one on top of the other like a totem pole. He’s even resorted to whining, which he’s normally above. Sam has dug his heels in, refusing to budge in the slightest.

“I’ll be done in half an hour at the most. You can’t wait that long?”

“I’ve been dating your perky ass long enough to know ‘half an hour’ is Sammish for ‘never’.” Max says with a huff. Beneath him, the hunter shakes with silent laughter.

“I promise I’ll be done soon.” He turns in his chair, forcing Max to stand up and stop leaning on him. And damn it, he’s flashing those fucking dimples. Between them and his stupid puppy-dog eyes, every argument is pretty much won before it’s even started. Max must look defeated, because Sam wraps an arm around his neck and pulls him down for a kiss, before resuming his work.

“In your dreams, Winchester.” He declares. “This isn’t over yet.” Sam just gives a smug chuckle. Determined, the witch leans into his boyfriend’s ear. “Maybe I should just scoop you up and bridal carry you to the room. Throw you on the bed.” The Winchester stiffens, and Max feels the corners of his mouth curl into a devious smile. 

They’ve been dating for about four months now. It started out with Max in tears showing up at 2 in the morning, confessing how he’d resurrected Alicia using the Borrower’s Magic. How he’d lost sleep from the guilt, had stopped eating or interacting with people from fear of Alicia finding out. How he eventually couldn’t take it anymore and just canceled the spell that maintained her semblance of living, and how he’d just gotten back from burying his sister. He’d come expecting for the Winchesters to separate his head from his shoulders. After all, most hunters can barely suffer a _good_ witch, and Max couldn’t possibly be considered one after using the darkest, most perverse violation of nature to keep his sister alive.

Instead, he’d found himself wrapped in strong arms, Sam’s gentle voice telling him it was okay, that he understood, that Max was safe now. He’d been lead to Sam’s bedroom, where he spent the next few weeks sleeping and being waited on hand and foot by the immense hunter.  It was bizarre at first, to both him and Dean, who would mutter under his breath how his brother should open up a baby-sitting service. Sam became his only comfort; the person Max was able to open up to about missing Alicia and Mom and the way things used to be. And the older hunter let him, offering only a shoulder to cry on and a gentle presence. Max sobbed into his chest, and woke up in his warm embrace for about a week or so before the two of them realized they had more than just friendly feelings between them.

Of course, Max had no idea that he’d be helping Sam too when they entered their relationship. But he was nothing if not perceptive. Sam was very affectionate, hugging him at every opportunity like he might be gone the next (which, given their lifestyle, was well inside the realm of probability). But he would also go cold at a kiss on the neck. Despite being boyfriends and sharing such close quarters, Max had yet to see him shirtless, even though he’d getting an eyeful of Dean more times than he cared to. A touch anywhere below the chest had the hunter rigid as a statue. When Max had asked about taking the next step in their relationship, he’d been hesitant to say yes, and when they finally had gotten to the act itself, Sam had been so distressed that they had to stop short. Max held his boyfriend as the older hunter told him about Lucifer, and Meg, and Toni Bevell. He admitted that he hadn’t even been able to touch himself since Toni, much less be with another person. All throughout, he’d been assuring Max he was fine, that he could grin and bear it. Max just kissed him and told him to stop being an idiot. “I’m lucky enough to even have someone like you. Don’t rush and do something you might regret because of me.”

So, the two of them worked together, Sam helping Max through his grief, Max helping Sam through his trauma. Max often had to convince the older man not to feel rushed, repeating that he didn’t want sex from Sam unless it was wanted in return. Of course, that was the frustrating thing – Sam did want to be intimate, but he still wasn’t emotionally ready. So, they made sure to take baby steps. A kiss on the neck led to being shirtless around each other, which led to roaming each other’s chests. The boundary was explored further and further, always at Sam’s pace, until they reached the final step, which left both of them sticky, sweaty and sated afterwards.

“I love you.” Sam had told him, smile blinding. Max had to resist pouncing on him and going another round at that. He hadn’t heard a declaration of love since Rock River. It was hard even thinking back on the times he had heard it, because the people who had said it were no longer there to.

Even though their issues are far from over, that moment felt like the turning point, where it could only get better. And it really has. They’re comforted in the knowledge they have each other, as long as fate allows. Max doesn’t spend every waking moment consumed in grief. Sam is open with him, and lets Max “take care of him in ways no one has in a long time”. Which is a delicate way of saying that they have loads and loads of sex, whenever and wherever they can.

Dean gives them shit for it. He made more than a few Brokeback Mountain jokes the first few weeks they showed their affection openly. After the sixteenth time or so, Max was weighing the options of calling him an old man or hexing his hair pink for a month. To both of his and Dean’s surprise, Sam beat Max to the punch.

“Cowboy style’s definitely one of the favorites.” He smirked. “You’re jealous we got to fifth base before you finally figured out what it was, aren’t you?”

Dean shut up after that.

All in all, Sam is pretty great, with virtually no negative aspects of them dating. But Max’s favorite thing about their relationship so far is manhandling him.

He noticed when they first started being intimate how strongly Sam reacted to him being rough in bed. He worried it might be residual fear, that Sam was reminded of the bad encounters he’d had. Max apologized afterward, pressing kisses to his boyfriend’s chest and explaining he didn’t mean to get carried away. He was waiting for Sam to say that it was fine, as long as it didn’t happen again. He feared that they’d be back to square one, taking weeks or even months to work up to this comfort level again. In the worst case, Sam might never trust him like that again.

Max had not been expecting a red-faced Sam to admit he actually kind of liked it rough. The witch’s brain almost liquefied at that. Sensitive, smart, sexy, _and_ kinky. If there’s some cosmic entity interfering with his love life, they deserve about a thousand flowers.

Afterward, Max was as rough as Sam wanted. Pinning him to the bed, tugging at his hair, littering him all over with bite marks (The last one resulted in a thousand dirty looks from Dean over breakfast, but _man_ was it worth it). He also started weight training in the Men of Letter’s training gym. Sam helped him, though he’s not sure whether his boyfriend was aware of his intentions. Nerveless, Max continued to build and build his strength, biding his time 

The day came soon enough. Sam had been doing hours and hours of nonstop research at the table, the way he is tonight, eventually falling asleep face first into a book. If left alone, he’d probably spend the night there.

“Leave him.” Dean grunted, fastening his robe as he headed off to his room. “If you wake him, Sleeping Beauty there will either turn into a dragon and bite your head off, or go back to more research.”

Sam ended up waking up in bed the next day, not remembering how he got there. But Max had been left with the invaluable knowledge that he was strong enough to bridal carry his 6 foot 4 boyfriend from the library to their bedroom.

And that knowledge was beyond useful for future situations. The first time he’d picked up Sam while conscious, the hunter had turned pink in the face. Max was always eager for a blushing Sam, so he strived to manhandle his boyfriend up as often as possible, wherever he could. The most obvious use was dragging Sam away from research - sometimes to bed, others to the bunker’s kitchen. The first time Dean witnessed his gigantic brother wrapped in Max’s arms, he just about died laughing. He didn’t let up the teasing for about a month afterward, asking Sam if he wanted a piggyback ride every time his brother exited a room.

There have also been a few less innocent advantages to his strength. Sam’s far lighter than he looks, at least for a guy his height and build. This makes it fairly easy for Max to hold Sam up, for a decent length of time. Coupled with his boyfriend’s flexibility, and the fact he can fasten his legs around Max’s waist like he’s clinging for dear life –

“Do you really want me to take a break?” Sam asks. Max smiles at the resigned tone. _Victory._

“Just a short one.” He promises, lips pressing softly against the other man’s Adam’s Apple. “Thirty minutes, I promise.” His boyfriend gives a snort, but still tilts his throat further back. He lifts a hand to scratch at Max’s scalp, which only pushes the witch to lavish more attention on Sam’s exposed neck. “Need to make a note for next time that you surrender at the promise of being manhandled.” Sam gives an annoyed huff, which almost immediately devolves into a sinfully throaty groan at Max’s kisses.

“Our room?” He asks, out of breath. The witch suppresses a snicker. Despite all the protests about not wanting to get distracted, his boyfriend is more than eager to be bedded. Little does Sam know Max has no intention of using this little break for _that_ kind of fun.

“Mmm… maybe later. But you wouldn’t wanna get distracted for too long.” Max gets a bitch face for that comment, which he promptly ignores. Taking out his phone, he double checks that it’s connected to the wireless speaker Sam hooked up for him, before opening his music app. He only needs to type in the first word before the song he’s looking for show up. Once it’s chosen, he places the phone down on the table and gets Sam to his feet.

“You’re joking, right?” His boyfriend folds his arms against his chest as harmonica stylings emerge from the speaker.

“Come on, it’s from a cinematic classic.” Max insists. Resting his hands on his boyfriend’s sides, he slowly moves them from side to side. Sam’s still a little flushed from before, but his expression is a mixture of amused and unimpressed.

“You weren’t even born yet.” He laughs as Max sways his hips ridiculously. “You’re as bad as Dean. Footloose would’ve been less cheesy.”

“Coming from the guy who has the VHS tapes for Red Sonja and Beastmaster. You have no room to hate my taste in 80s movies.” Max says, poking Sam’s firm chest. “Besides, Patrick Swayze was part of my sexual awakening.” His fingers trail down his boyfriend’s face. “He helped me realize my weakness for men with strong jawlines.”

“Mmm. Really?” Sam’s already surrendered, letting his boyfriend guide his motions. Max lip-synchs to the music, so ridiculously exaggerated that Sam is clearly struggling to not smile. The two men begin swaying side to side.

“Hey baby, I wanna know, if you’ll be my man.” He sings over Bruce Channel, bringing Sam closer to his chest. Those sunflower eyes roll, and Sam gives another huff of laughter. Hands slide further downward until they’re tight around his waist. Seeing the confused puppy-dog expression, Max quirks his eyebrows. “How well do you remember this scene from Dirty Dancing?” Recognition instantly flashes in his boyfriend’s eyes, which narrow to slits.

“Don’t even –” Sam yelps midsentence as Max pushes upward. The witch feels his arms groan in protest as he hauls his enormous boyfriend into the air. Nevertheless, Max has Sam over his head, arms stretched out and legs together. The pose barely lasts half a minute, but by the time Sam’s feet hit the ground, all of Max’s muscles ache. He decides it’s worth it when he sees that Sam’s face so red it looks like it might catch fire. The song fades to nothing, the two of them resting on each other.

A cough makes them both turn around. At the library’s entrance is Dean, holding what looks like several bags of takeout. He’s practically the Cheshire Cat, grinning wickedly from ear to ear. His face is as red as his brother’s, but it’s likely from holding in his laughter. After a pause, Dean gives up, cackling like a hyena.

“Dude, he full-on Swayzed you.” He snorts out as he wipes the tears from his eyes.

“Shut up.” Sam says, the red in his face deepening even more. Dean gives a mock-frown in response.

“Hey, don’t be like that, Jennifer Grey.” He says, placing one of the bag on the table beside him. “Italian. Eggplant Parm for your boyfriend, and a salad for you, to keep your delicate Ballerina Barbie frame.”

“Dean…” Sam warns, stepping forward. Dean just snickers, blowing a mock-kiss his brother’s way.

“I’m gonna go eat this in my room. Don’t let me distract you two for your Dancing with the Stars Audition.” Dean retreats, shoulders still trembling with laughter. Once he disappears from behind the corner, Sam turns to Max, scowling.

“You just had to go and do that when Dean was bound to come home any minute, didn’t you?” Max gives what he hopes is a winning smile, only to be greeted by another bitch face. Shrugging, he places a kiss on Sam’s nose.

“Come on, you liked it.” The hunter sighs, bringing his head to rest on Max’s shoulder. The witch tightens his grip around Sam, running a hand through his hair. “Worst comes to worst, if he keeps teasing us about it, we’ll have sex in his bed.”

“Do that and I tell Jody.” Dean’s voice shouts from further into the bunker. Rolling his eyes, Max turns to grab the bag off the table, taking his boyfriend’s hand.

“Screw going back to work. How about an 80s movie marathon?” Shaking his head, Sam relents. Max drags him toward their room, the research left forgotten on the table.

**Author's Note:**

> Eru, this is your punishment:
> 
>  
> 
> "Please," Not-Sam rolls his eyes. "I'm not your boytoy, so you can forget trying to make me weak in the knees from your pretty eyes."
> 
> "So you have no soul?" Max asks, approaching his boyfriend's vacant body. The imposter smirks.
> 
> "Yes, now you finally get - wait, what are you doing?"
> 
> "THIS BITCH EMPTY." Max hollers, picking up Soulless Sam. The empty vessel goes flying across the room, barely having time to react. "YEET!!"


End file.
